by Addie Hagen
This house is so filled with loving, nurturing, caring energy that you can't help but feel it. It's soaked into the wood, the stone, the soil; it permeates the air and every physical thing. There's something about this place that just feels. It feels like home. Before moving in here, the idea of an "Inn"; a place to stay for a while, but where the main focus is the leaving; struck a chord with me. But in the time that I've lived here that idea has become less and less appealing and more and more saddening, and I have finally realized why. When I came here five months ago, I was a runner; I ran away from my problems, from people, from things that were too big for me to handle alone, hid from the world, and stayed in isolation. An Inn; somewhere I could run to, and then run away from again; was just what I wanted.
But it wasn't what I needed.
This place isn't an Inn.
This house is a home.
There's a cozy living room and a big dining room to greet you when you come in, people walk around in their pajamas and stay up all night talking or watching movies; usually laughing. The kitchen is the room that gets the most traffic, and you'll find you're usually greeted by a chorus of people hollering or singing your name when you get back after being gone; even for a day. There are house breakfasts and dinners, and the place looks lived in; you can almost always find someone's things hanging around the living room overnight. This house is a home.
But more importantly, It's a family.
We tease and laugh at each other (or are very annoyed with each other) at breakfast, and cook dinner together even when it's not required. We care about and love each other, and always strive to support one another in whatever we do and lift one another up on really bad days; or weeks, or months. We watch movies together and play games together and make coffee to share. We go on adventures. We talk about deep stuff and rant about bullshit and laugh about dumb things. We even have a framed, chicken wire photo hanger with family portraits on it, and we cry (more than once) when someone moves out and welcome visits (planned or not) from them with open arms; and usually more tears.
Yeah, this is more than an Inn. It's a home. And we're a family.